A month ago, I had been on the edge of a depressive episode, so the psych doc and I increased one med and I’ve been using my blue light. He said that I’d feel better in 7 to 10 days.

It’s been a month. I don’t feel better. I don’t feel worse, either. I feel flat.

Flat is a lot like depression – indeed, it’s part of it, but I tend to feel it more distinctly – as its own symptom – on the way out of depression. Even though the effects are similar, depression has a downward pull, where flat is flat, not down.

Like I could take it or leave it. All of it. Nothing really matters. I don’t have strong feelings of sadness or anxiety, nor do I feel excitement or joy. I don’t really want to do anything. I eat because I’m supposed to; I’m not usually hungry. I’m able to do the things I need to do, be around the people I need to be with, can even overcome the apathy to run errands or attend the ladies’ Bible study. I don’t really want to, but I will.

In depression, the desire to stay home in my pajamas, is so strong! In flat, I can go out and do. In all truthfulness, I go out and do during depression, too. But it’s way harder; I really have to fight myself. In flat, there’s just the barest speck of desire to go and do, so it’s just a hint easier. I can hardly tell the difference myself.

Last week, I accompanied my husband on a business trip, and got to hang out with my kids while he worked. I wanted to go, but wasn’t overly excited like I’d think I would be normally. I trusted that I would have fun once I got there. And I had a wonderful visit with my kids – was able to live in and enjoy the moments. Our entire family laughed a lot, especially on a relaxed Friday night. But those feelings didn’t stay with me, nor can I reach back to retrieve them. They simply were. And now they’re not.

This flatness happens on my journey up and down with depression. It’s often a first indicator that something is wrong, that depression is threatening to return and wreak its havoc. That’s flatness with a downward pull. And it comes back when I’m recovering, emerging from the darkness and into God’s light of hope and expectancy.

Usually a tweak in meds will do the trick, and I can bounce the rest of the way up. So I’ll tell my psych doc on Friday that I’m not where I thought I’d be in my recovery, and see if a small adjustment will fix it.

And I’ll remind myself, yet again, that God is with me through my depression. He has not abandoned me, even when I descend into the dark thoughts of depression. He’s with me in the flat. And He rejoices with me when I emerge on the other side. He’s my constant companion – I am never alone.

Like this:

I met with a therapist today, on the recommendation of my psych doc. It was just intake, so it’s hard to judge how we’ll get along.

I miss my old therapist. The one who knows me better than I know myself. I want to talk to him and have him explain the thoughts in my head that I don’t understand, the thoughts that I don’t even realize I’m having. The thoughts that come with depression but I don’t recognize. I was with him for eight years – to say he understands me is a gross understatement.

I miss my other therapist – the woman who loved Jesus and let that flow from her onto me. The counselor who always gave Godly counsel, who pointed me to Christ each time we met. I only worked with her for a year, but she, too, was a huge help as I went through the transition of moving to Florida, and then a depressive episode.

I don’t want to start over with someone new. I don’t want to go through this depression with a stranger.

I had a phone call from a friend today, and she gave good advice to not compare. Not compare what I have here with what I had before. We were talking about churches, but the same probably applies to everything in my current life. I need to live in the present, and simply be grateful for the past, instead of constantly measuring everything by what used to be.

That’s so hard to do. I don’t have much in the way of friends here – one, really – though I’ve lived here for over a year now. I didn’t connect with women in Bible Study last Spring, but I’m going to try it again. Not having a church home is very distressing – leaves a huge hole in my life. I haven’t been in any kind of leadership role for over two years now – I really miss facilitating a small group.

So I look back at my friendships with longing. I miss my old churches. My old jobs. My old activity level. I don’t need to be going a thousand miles an hour, but anything is better than hours alone, which is what I face now.

I feel like these posts keep saying the same thing, so I can tell I’m processing this idea of living mindfully. Fully invested in here and now. So so hard to do!

I want to walk barefoot, but usually have to wear sandals to protect the soles of my feet on the heated wood. Once we get to that beach, I kick them off and sink my toes into the sand. We trudge through the broken shells to the best spot for the next couple of hours, set up our chairs, and head into the water to cool off. Then I sit mindfully and listen to the sound of the waves as they come up on the shore. After a while, we walk along the edge of the water and find unbroken shells for our ever-growing collection back home.

Like this:

I find myself staring out the sliding glass door. I’m not sure that’s it’s daydreaming, really, because I’m not thinking about anything. At first glance out the window, I watch the trees waving in the breeze. I see the varied shades of green from palms to pines to bushes to grasses to lawn. I see the blue sky and the fluffy clouds. And then I “zone out” – my mind is wandering but to nothing in particular. I’m not mulling anything over, but if I feel a lingering thought, I might turn it towards God, into prayer.

I have a favorite spot in my house. It’s right here on the left end of the couch. This furthest cushion. The end table is next to me. There’s a lamp and box of tissues and coasters on the corner. I also have my journals – my daily one and my gratitude notebook. There’s plenty of room for my iPad and a snack. The end table is a few steps from the sliding door to the patio.

I have no idea how long I’ve been turned to the door and the outside beyond it. Time has stopped and I am frozen in this place: legs in front of me with my feet on the coffee table, pillow on my lap with this Chromebook on top, my hands on the keyboard but not typing. Shoulders down and relaxed. Head turned to the left, eyes on the distance. Jaw dropped, not clenched. Relaxed.

When I “come to,” I have no idea what I was thinking. But I’ve never believed it’s possible to not think. My mind is always planning or pondering or ruminating. I understand from books and presentations and confirming with the guys in my family (husband, son) that men have a “nothing box” – where they can mentally go and truly think about nothing. I wonder what that would be like to shut off my thoughts. Maybe I just did it.

I don’t count this as mindfulness exactly. I’m not aware of my thoughts, or even of the scenery after the first look. I’m not aware of time passing or sounds I might hear. I just sit and stare into the distance, not seeing. Here on the couch, with my gaze toward the palms, is the closest I come to the nothing box. It’s nice.

Like this:

As I mentioned before, there are things that I can do, even with depression, to help ease its symptoms. If I’m in remission, those tasks are much easier to carry out. Here are some more thoughts on the steps, and how I do (or don’t do) them with depression in remission versus when it’s full-blown.

It’s important not to isolate myself – to keep up social interaction and positive supportive relationships. This is near to impossible when I’m in the middle of a depressive episode, since all I want to do is be alone, preferably in the dark with the covers pulled over my head. I’ve learned to lean on the folks who know about my struggles, and admit to these friends that I’m having a tough time. They know what to say and when, and how to gently push me to reach out or when to leave me alone.

If I’ve learned anything in my years in and out of depression, I’ve learned the importance of making space in my day, and not pushing myself too hard. It’s critical that I reduce my stress, make my to-do list shorter, and pace myself. I am already my harshest critic (that comes naturally to me, and is amplified with depression) and it’s easy to beat myself up about the things I should do that I don’t get done. But I’m learning to cut myself some slack, practice some relaxation techniques, and even nap if I need to.

A piece that is very important to fighting depression is adopting an “attitude of gratitude.” It’s been proven in studies that folks who practice daily gratitude, perhaps writing things to be thankful for in a journal, have reduced depression and anxiety. It’s impossible to thank God for blessings and be anxious at the same time! Gratefulness also combats negative thinking, which is a huge issue for me when I’m depressed. I ruminate, mull, dwell and judge myself very harshly, and the negative thinking spirals quickly downward. But if I can stop myself, take the negative thoughts captive to Christ (from 2 Corinthians 10:5), and focus on His blessings right now, living in the moment with gratitude, I can slow the negative thinking and self-condemning thoughts before they get too far gone.

I’m told repeatedly by my therapists and doctors to do the things that I used to enjoy, even though depression means that I don’t want to do anything. This is actually a diagnosing symptom of depression – not wanting to do things that used to be enjoyable. Other ways to combat this inertia are to reach out to others – recognize someone else’s need and offer help, maybe even volunteer in a serving capacity. I’ve found it true – thinking about someone else takes my mind off myself, and I can be distracted from depressive thoughts as I try to meet someone else’s needs.

Maintaining an active faith life is critical in my fight against depression. I have to regularly remind myself that Jesus knows and understands how I feel, and He loves me completely, unconditionally, anyway. I’m not always able to concentrate well enough to read my Bible, so I have several other tools that help. I have a couple of books that are simply Bible verses to read “when you feel … (sad, anxious, depressed, lonely, etc.).” I listen to a lot of praise and worship music, and even have made some playlists appropriate for my moods. Lastly, the Holy Spirit will bring Bible verses to mind that I have read or memorized over the years. I may not be able to find and read them from the Bible, though, so this is a reminder to me to hide God’s Word in my heart (Psalm 119:11) – I never know when I might need it!

It’s important to continue to take my medications as prescribed, and to avoid alcohol (a depressant). There’s really only been one time when I really wanted to quit taking my medicine – I think I felt like it was all useless (that’s the depression talking). It’s important, too, to follow my treatment plan and meet with my doctor and therapist – they will encourage me to keep taking these steps. It’s important to have their help to stay on track.

Finally, I need to really listen to myself, and have those closest to me help me identify if I need immediate help. If I feel like hurting myself, if my mood worsens quickly, if I descend and can’t get back up, I need to get professional help. My therapist has been great to be available when I need help quickly – I am grateful for her!

So, that’s a lot to do to keep healthy – a total of 10 steps to take when including the top three from my earlier post (sleep, healthy diet, exercise). And it’s a lot to be intentional about, so it is helpful to form these habits when I’m in good mental health, so they aren’t completely impossible when I’m fighting a depressive episode.

What are some steps that you take to fight depression? What advice do you have to others who struggle?